Giving up, part two

I spent Sunday nursing my mini-hangover. Yes, I really should quit smoking and drinking these days. Well, I call it a mini-hangover, because a) i wasn't really drunk -- i think =p; b) i just had a slightly dull headache, nothing really too painful; and c) i didn't really feel like puking. Hmm. Maybe it wasn't a hangover after all.

Anyway, Sunday evening, I watched Bok bowl, withdrew money to pay for that Bohol trip, catched a glimpse of Neil Gaiman at the Fully Booked bookstore at the Greenhills Promenade area (laki pala ng eyebags nya), and indulged in another serving of bbq-chopped chicken salad from CPK ASAP. Quirky name for CPK...hindi na ba available ang SOP? Hehehe. (Pinoy TV joke).

Today I feel slightly down. Bilog ang mundo, the commercial for gin goes. Well, the world is round and right now I'm being trampled upon. Or rather, I feel like I'm being trampled upon. There's a difference you see. And I just want to feel sad.

Everyone's going away. I resist the urge to shout out and cry. It is nothing, I tell myself. I missed the chance to leave. I could leave if I really wanted to. He ranks frisbee higher than me. Sigh, it's a running joke, but it's true. There he goes again, no money for an engagement ring, no money for Bohol, but lots of money for that Singapore league. I don't know what to think. Am I too demanding or dramatic if I sulk over that? I cannot go to that league with him, I am not that good a player. Look at me, Monday night pickup and I'm the office attending to a call. How the hell can I be a good enough player? The fun suddenly seems to be stripped off the sport. The fun seems to be stripped off of everything. I want to sulk and smoke a cigarette, but the memory of my mini-hangover stops me. So I just sulk. In my own corner. Who the fuck cares anyway if I don't work out.

I give up.

Today, I live life on my own terms.